Xuanli eight years, the first day of May, spring fading, summer flowers. The sun was cut into one piece by the thick leaves of the old banyan tree in the courtyard, and fell lightly to the ground. There were also a few pieces that were sprinkled on Fu Xiaoguan's face through the window lattice. That is a white fair and delicate slightly puerilent face, just those eyes looking at the wild flowers out of the window, the line of sight between the eyebrows seems to have a bit of weight, then...
